<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Handy Man by Cards_Slash, Earlgreyer, song_of_fate</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23560762">Handy Man</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash/pseuds/Cards_Slash'>Cards_Slash</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earlgreyer/pseuds/Earlgreyer'>Earlgreyer</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_fate/pseuds/song_of_fate'>song_of_fate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wynonna Earp (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Construction Workers, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:34:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23560762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash/pseuds/Cards_Slash, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earlgreyer/pseuds/Earlgreyer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_fate/pseuds/song_of_fate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew of Del Rey Construction have been waiting with bated breath for the day when their boss and the devilishly handsome carpenter for hire finally break down and BANG.</p><p>OR</p><p>Socially inept boss has the hots for local gorgeous carpenter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Doc Holliday/Bobo Del Rey | Robert Svane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Handy Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strictly speaking, Dowdy did not need to borrow anything from Howard.  Despite how some of the other guys liked to poke fun at him for being disorganized and ‘easily-distracted’ he always made sure he had all the supplies he needed before he got started.  That was important to him, because it allowed for all his momentary distractions and short breaks to be spent on <em>important</em> things instead of hunting down the only man on the jobsite with the pocket full of the right type of screws.  </p><p>Howard was generally humorless, but never more so than when he was stuck in a shower stall installing grout over the painstakingly placed tiles that the client just <em>had</em> to have.  So he was already frowning when Dowdy leaned into his space.  </p><p>“This better be good,” Howard said.</p><p>“I just thought since you’ve been in here for two straight days that you might be interested in hearing some of the current events going on in the greater world.  I guess you’ve already heard that Boss has been bitching about being behind schedule again even though we’re not behind on anything because none of us ever--”</p><p>“The point, Dowdy.”</p><p>“The <em>point</em> is that we all know that Boss is just bitching because it’s taken all this time just to convince the clients that they need that custom pantry build and since he got called off the job the other day when you-know-who came by to do the measurements he didn’t even get the chance to--”</p><p>Howard sighed.</p><p>“<em>Well</em>,” Dowdy said in a rush, “maybe it will interest you to know that he has just arrived and he’s wearing that one tight blue shirt with the little rolled cuffs on the sleeves.  You remember the last time he wore that shirt don’t you?”</p><p>“Wait,” Howard said.  He grabbed the rag out of his back pocket to rub the grit off his fingers, “the blue shirt with the diamond pattern or the blue henley?”</p><p>“No.  The blue one that looks like he just poured a gallon of paint on his chest.  Remember?  Last time he wore it, Boss fell off the back porch we were building and yelled at Laurie about it for ten minutes because he was being <em>careless</em>?”</p><p>Howard did <em>not</em> have a memory of the shirt, but he was working real hard at cycling through the various looks that he had memorized.  Could be that he was stuck in some small-space hell the last time Doc had worn the shirt but it was certainly an event that a man didn’t want to miss <em>twice</em>.  “Where is he?  Show me this shirt.”</p><p>“He’s outside, we should be able to see him from the bedroom window, come on.”</p><p>Sure enough, there was Doc standing by his truck, wearing his painted-on shirt like there was any need to be attractive when you were going to be spending your day in a closet.  Dowdy hadn’t taken note of the jeans he was wearing before, but they did seem to be particularly well-fit to his ass as he leaned into the front seat of his truck to retrieve his tool belt.  </p><p>It was damn near a mating ritual, standing there watching the man go about the business of strapping that belt around his perfect hips.  (Dowdy wasn’t even attracted to men, but now and again, you just had to admit that some bodies were perfect regardless of your preference.)</p><p>Boss was standing almost out of view, attempting to hold a conversation and no doubt falling into that halting-and-stuttering method of communicating that always seemed to overcome him in Doc’s presence.  He was holding a clipboard in one hand and his morning coffee in the other.  They’d all chipped in together to get Boss one of those titanium cups ever since the time he crushed the paper one and burnt his hand all to shit.</p><p>“Christ,” Howard hissed at his side when Doc shook his head to get the hair out of his face, “that man should qualify as an OSHA violation.”</p><p>“You think Boss would notice if we just took the day off?”</p><p>“No,” Howard sighed as he turned away from the window.  “That doesn’t mean you can take the day off.  I’m sure there’s something you’re supposed to be doing.”</p><p>“Oh I’m working downstairs,” Dowdy said.  “Finishing up some things in the kitchen.”  </p><p>Because scattered as he was, sometimes, he made it a priority to be useful closest to the places where the most interesting things happened.</p><p>--</p><p>“Just let me know if you need a hand or anything,” Dowdy had said when he very suddenly appeared in Doc’s path from his truck to the pantry in question.  “Did you need a hand carrying stuff in?  I’m real good at--”</p><p>“Get back to work,” Bobo had snapped at the kid. </p><p>Dowdy was either <em>impossible</em> to intimidate (a very possible interpretation) or he had assumptions about Bobo’s grumpiness that amused him more than the actual crankiness annoyed him.  Doc didn’t mind Dowdy because it was important to stay on good terms with a man who knew everything about everyone.  Setting aside the veritable gold mine of information housed behind Dowdy’s boring face, there was the fact that the kid was genuinely one of the most helpful people on the crew.</p><p>If Doc needed something handed to him?  Dowdy was always lurking somewhere nearby.</p><p>If Doc had any questions about the client?  Dowdy had probably overheard enough to develop an accurate psychological profile.</p><p>If Doc needed paint touched up on something and didn’t want to have to crouch in a closet with a tiny pot of paint and a toothbrush sized paintbrush?  Dowdy was the smallest man on the crew and did you know that also he once won a high school painting contest.  Not the type with a creative paining but the ones where you just covered the biggest part of the wall in the shortest span of time?  Now they all said that he couldn’t be done on account of how short he was, but a step ladder (Dowdy said) was an invaluable tool.</p><p>Most importantly was how Dowdy had a habit of shit-stirring with his sunny grin and his constant talking, saying something like, “right Boss, right.  You’re right.  Well, anyway, it’s good to see you, Doc.  It’s always good to see you.  You always look good, so I guess that’s why we all look forward to days when we get to see you.  And,” he snapped his fingers as he drew in a loud breath through his nose, “is that a new cologne?  That’s pretty fancy for a jobsite, Doc.  Most of us go in for extra-strength deodorant you know.  There’s a lot of sweating at a jobsite.”</p><p>Doc knew and Dowdy knew exactly what Dowdy was getting at.  In fact, he had decided very early on that Dowdy was the most accurate litmus test he’d ever encountered as far as gauging his level of attractiveness to his chosen target.  That had allowed him to really <em>hone</em> his attempts to a fine point throughout the increasingly frequent trips to Del Rey Construction’s jobsites.  </p><p>A whistle from Dowdy meant this is heading in the right direction.</p><p>A wink was an indication that he had perfected a single aspect of an outfit.</p><p>But a long and pointless slur of words meant that even if he hadn’t <em>perfected</em> a particular look, he had most definitely earned a best-in-show type ribbon.  And somewhere in that great rush of sounds, there was probably a suggestion for how he could improve for next time.  </p><p>“I do like to smell nice regardless of the level of sweating I plan on doing, Dowdy.”  Doc winked at him and Dowdy’s whole face flushed out pink.  He didn’t stand there another second looking because Bobo was going to really start yelling if he did.  “You run the nicest crew I have ever worked with,” Doc said to Bobo.</p><p>Bobo’s ability to form complete sentences had been, thus far, questionable at best.  Every time he started talking he seemed to drift off in the middle so that his usual eloquence was reduced to single words interspersed with grunts and clicks of his teeth.  That afforded Doc an ample amount of time to appreciate the care that Bobo had put into selecting his own outfit.  While his job did limit his options to what would survive a day full of manual labor and yelling at Dowdy, almost all of his clothing seemed to have a unique softness to them.  His shirt wasn’t skin tight but it fit to his body like a breeze hugged around the curves.  His jeans always looked like they were thin as paper, skin-warm and easy to rip.</p><p>“Yeah,” Bobo said when all the other words in the English language seemed to fail him.  “Well, you’ve got everything inside now.”</p><p>Yes he did, and perhaps he’d done such a shoddy job at making it easier to carry when he packed it up just so he could walk behind this man on <em>several</em> trips from the truck to the pantry where he was going to install it.  Doc smiled, “thanks to you.”</p><p>“I’ve got work,” Bobo said.  Things like that just tumbled out of his mouth with no thought from his brain because his face always seemed to be disappointed by having to be associated with them.  For all that Mr. Del Rey gave off the impression of a confident and <em>capable</em> man, he had yet to pick up on just how acceptable Doc would find any manner of sexual advances.  “You do...too?”  </p><p>Doc’s sexual fantasies had started including this pitiful excuse for communication.  It was almost heartbreaking, the way he looked forward to watching Bobo struggle.  “I should get started on that work,” Doc agreed, “but I was thinking, seeing how you have truly gone out of your way to recommend my work to <em>all</em> of your clients and how I owe this sudden boom in my business to your salesmanship, I owe you a drink.”</p><p>“A drink?” Bobo repeated.  Both of his arms retreated close to his body like he needed to defend himself from the <em>very idea</em>.  </p><p>To the side, something clattered into the sink and Dowdy hissed a, “sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” as he inexplicably sank toward the floor.  </p><p>“Well now that you mention it,” Doc said as he eased forward a step, “a drink does not seem generous enough to match the great favor that you have done me.  I believe dinner would better convey my deep gratitude.”</p><p>“Dinner?” Bobo repeated.</p><p>“Tomorrow?  7PM?  I can text you the address, or pick you up at your house.  I don’t want to be presumptuous so whatever you are more comfortable with.”</p><p>Dowdy was not making a noise and he was no longer in Doc’s peripheral vision but all the same, Doc was aware of a sort of buzzing sound that <em>had</em> to be the kid's fault.</p><p>“Yeah,” Bobo said as he nodded his head, “I mean, as a show of gratitude?”</p><p>“My most <em>sincere</em> gratitude,” Doc agreed.</p><p>“Between work colleagues?”</p><p>Well, hopefully not.  “If you like,” Doc said.</p><p>“I have work,” Bobo said before the moment could get any more unbearable for him.  He did smile though, and it went all the way to his eyes, “dinner tomorrow though.”</p><p>Dowdy didn’t pop back up on the other side of the island until Bobo had finished his strategic retreat, and when he did he was all but doing a victory dance.  He didn’t jump around but threw both of his arms in the air and hopped from one foot to the other.  He jogged around the island to grab Doc by the arms and pull him forward into a hug.  “I’m so happy.  I’m so happy I could be here for this!  I’m so happy, you don’t even know--I just won the bet.  I am going to take my Mom out to dinner!  I am going to buy a mountain of Twizzlers.  Thank you,” and he leaned back away from Doc.  “Thank you.”</p><p>Doc snorted, “just makes sure he gets there?”</p><p>“Please,” Dowdy said as he stepped fully back.  “He’ll be there an hour early, overdressed.  I’m so happy.  For me--and you.  It’s good for you too.  Good job.  I think the cologne was a nice touch.  Not as nice as this,” his hand motioned at Doc’s shirt, “but it definitely put you over the edge.  Good job man.  Someone had to make a move.  Y’all have been killing us.  I need to go back to work.  You’ve got a whole pantry to do.  Drawers and shelves and stuff, I guess.  Good job,” he slapped Doc on the arm one more time.  </p><p>Xxx</p><p>There was no point in looking at his phone again.  It had only been a few minutes since he’d last looked, though his brain was telling him it had been hours and everyone in the place was staring at him with pity.  <em>This</em> was exactly why he didn’t do this kind of thing.  He wasn’t good at people.  Not at first, anyway.  Once he got to know someone it was infinitely easier.  He could hang out and joke with the guys from the crew, grab a beer after work and shoot some pool or tinker with a project.  But strangers?  Bobo was less than stellar at socializing with strangers.  </p><p>Unless it was work related, which, in a way, this was.  Right?  The thought made Bobo a little less anxious.  This was Doc’s way of saying thanks for the additional business because Bobo was directly responsible for giving him the opportunity to showcase his exceptional talent.  Doc was reliable, did amazing work, and made the customers happy, so it only made sense to keep him around on more jobs.  He was <em>practically </em>a member of the crew.  Kind of.  So, really, there was no pressure.  </p><p>Bobo lifted the heavy crystal whiskey glass to his lips and took a large swallow of the amber liquid before setting it back on the table.  To keep himself from looking at his phone again he slid his glass across the dark wood to his other hand, catching it and sending it back the other way in a solo game of catch.  The heavy thump against his palm was oddly satisfying and calming. </p><p>“Am I late?”</p><p>Bobo’s head snapped up, and he almost missed the glass on it’s latest pass between his hands.  “Uh, no!  No.”  He downed the rest of the whiskey as he shot to his feet.  “I didn’t see you come in.”  He thrust his hand out toward Doc.  “Hello.”  <em>Hello?  Jeez, Bobo, try to restrain yourself.</em>  A soft buzz meandered slowly from his chest to his head, thankfully taking the edge off of his anxiety.  He was able to manage a genuine smile rather than a grimace, and gestured to the chair opposite his.  “Have a seat?”</p><p>Doc looked good.  Not that Bobo had ever seen him <em>not</em> looking good.  He supposed it was possible, but not probable.  Not for someone as genetically blessed as Doc Holliday.  His dark hair and pale skin were perfectly complemented by the navy blue henley that perfectly hugged his muscular torso and arms in a way Bobo could only imagine doing.  <em>Had</em> imagined doing.  Several times.  Today, in fact.  His heart raced in his chest and he flexed his fingers to keep from touching Doc in any way more than a handshake.  </p><p>“I do believe I will, thank you Bobo.”  They sat opposite each other and ordered more drinks, and before any kind of uncomfortable silence could happen Doc took command of the conversation.  “Thank you, for joining me this evening.”</p><p><em>You’re welcome.  I’d love to make a habit of it.</em>  “Sure.  Thanks for the invite.  You really didn’t have to.”</p><p>“Now, Bobo, I <em>know</em> I didn’t <em>have</em> to.”  Doc turned his one thousand watt smile directly at him and it was all Bobo could do to remember to breathe.  “But I did want to express my appreciation for your most generous assistance in increasing my portfolio of projects, and subsequently the value of my bank account.”  Doc turned his smile to the waiter and took the offered drink.  Bobo fought the sudden urge to throttle <em>Steve, I’ll be your server this evening</em>, though the reaction was overwhelming.  </p><p>The glare must have been clear enough.  <em>Steve </em>beat a hasty retreat with a barely discernible, “I’ll let you look at the menus and be back in a bit” before he dashed toward the kitchen.</p><p>Doc’s chuckle was like a calming hand on his shoulder.  “I do believe it might be bad form to antagonize the server, Bobo.”</p><p>“I didn’t say anything.”</p><p>Doc raised an eyebrow.  “You growled.”</p><p>“I didn’t growl.”  </p><p>Bobo caught his breath as Doc smirked and leaned closer.  <em>Sandalwood.  Lilac?  Something earthy.  Like the air after a hard rain.</em>  Bobo closed his eyes and battled with his desire to lean in and bury his nose in Doc’s neck and <em>breathe.</em>  Damn, he wanted to lick this man everywhere.</p><p>“Bobo?”</p><p>He snapped his eyes open and met Doc’s crystal blue gaze, not a foot away. “Sorry, what?”  He threw himself back in his chair, afraid of what he might do if he remained that close.  “Sorry.”</p><p>“No need to apologize.  I thought perhaps I had offended you with my teasing.”  Doc continued to lean closer in the most distracting manner, giving him a slight view of the fur covered expanse of chest he’d been hiding under skin-tight tees.  Bobo’s thoughts spiraled down a sweat and skin laced fantasy.  He shifted his weight and dragged his thoughts back to reality, and prayed that he’d have control of himself before he needed to stand up.  Why had he agreed to this?  It was pure torture.</p><p>“No.  I don’t mind the teasing.”  Bobo toyed with the glass, nervously rotating it in a clockwise circle in the middle of the table.  “You smell good.”  His brain had obviously not got control over his mouth.  There was no bottom to the depths of his embarrassment.  Bobo closed his eyes and weighed the repercussions of getting up and leaving before he humiliated himself any further.  </p><p>A gentle knock against his fingers interrupted his mental self-flagellation.  “Hey. Thank you.”  Doc’s voice was soft and warm, and there was the definite sound of a smile happening.  Bobo looked up and Doc’s gaze pulled him in.  Whose fault was it if he couldn’t look anywhere else after that?  He was only human.</p><p>“For what?” Whiskey would be welcome, but there was no way Bobo was moving his hand.  Not when it was so close to Doc’s.  They were practically touching.    </p><p>“For meeting me here.  Agreeing to have dinner with me.”  There was that grin, drawing Bobo across the table again, filling his chest with a kind of strange tickle that made it difficult to breathe or think.  “For saying you like my cologne.”</p><p>“I do.”  An inadvertent brush of fingers, momentary contact supercharged with sexual tension had Bobo practically frozen in place.  Doc’s smirk was going to kill Bobo.  That and the oh so confident gleam in his piercing blue eyes that said he knew the effect he was having, and was enjoying it.  “Doc.”  Bobo’s voice sounded as wrecked as he felt.</p><p>“Yes, Bobo?  Maybe call you Robert?  I feel it suits you.”  Doc’s pinky brushed the back of his hand again.  “I have wondered why everyone calls you Bobo.  Perhaps you will tell me that story someday.  But, I am interrupting.  Was there something you wanted Robert?”</p><p><em>You.  Naked.  Hands, and mouths and bodies touching, tasting.  Fuck, I want… I WANT.   </em>He somehow managed to keep those thoughts to himself.  “Uh.” Why did this man make him so tongue tied?  “I’m good.”</p><p>“Mmm.  Yes, I’m certain that you are.”  There was no mistaking his meaning, or the hungry look in his eyes.  It was enough to give Bobo the courage to catch Doc’s pinky with his own. To let him see the undisguised desire he was barely able to contain.  The triumphant grin and matching squeeze from Doc’s pinky left Bobo flushed and and fighting back a smirk of his own.  “Please, do let me know if you’d like to prove that, Robert.”</p><p>It was difficult to wrap his mind around the conversation. Insane was probably an accurate descriptor.  But the conversation was actually happening, despite his best attempts to appear addled and awkward.  A small kernel of hope lit in his chest and fed his confidence.  The attraction didn’t seem as one-sided anymore.  Any further rebuttal was hampered by the arrival of their dinners.  Bobo reluctantly let go of Doc’s pinky and slid his whiskey to the side, making room for the plates on the table.  As the waiter stepped away, Doc’s intense focus was once again directed solely at him, and he took a leap.  It would pay off or he’d go down in flames.  But he had to know for sure.  “I would.  Like to prove that.  Though <em>prove </em>might not set the proper tone.  I’d be more than happy to <em>demonstrate</em>.  W<em>ith </em>you.”  He smirked and turned his attention to his steak.   <em>Your move, Doc.</em></p><p>---</p><p>Doc’s intentions had been reasonably pure when he offered to walk Bobo back to his truck after they’d settled dinner, but there was only so much one man could take when faced with the knowledge that the object of his desire appeared to return the interest. </p><p>Attempting to string together the words that would keep the night from ending here was taking far longer than he was used to. He had not wanted to press, of course. Though Doc knew he had been far more obvious than was called for with his intentions. It appeared Bobo had been living under the very wrong assumption that Doc wanted them to just <em>work </em>together. </p><p>He was pleased to find that that misconception had shifted, at least in part, to a different understanding. Bobo had been a bundle of nerves and half-sentences during most of their encounters, but then their hands had brushed across the table and miraculously there was another man behind those eyes; one that looked at Doc with burning <em>intent</em>.</p><p>Bobo was leaning against his truck now, the lines of his body an open invitation in the dim lights of the parking lot. There was a tilt to his lips that never failed to make Doc stop in his tracks, his expression was full of heat and the tease of a dare. This was most emphatically not the look of a man who expected Doc to shake his hand and <em>leave</em>. </p><p>“Would it be presumptuous,” Doc began, stepping as far as he dared into Bobo’s space. “If I were to ask you back to mine?” </p><p>Bobo’s voice was a low rumble when he replied, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to.” </p><p>“Well allow me to settle any misinterpretations you may be harboring,” Doc said, his smile meant to ease. “For I would enjoy little more than being able to welcome you there.” </p><p>A rush of air came to disguise Bobo’s chuckle, but he reached out a tentative hand as Doc wandered close. He paused in the air and Doc held his breath before Bobo steeled himself enough to continue. Suddenly there were fingers insinuating themselves through the loops of his belt and Doc was being pulled over him with such force he had to slap his hands along the top of the truck to keep from pummeling into him too hard. </p><p>They were pressed together from hip to chest and within seconds Doc’s blood was rocket fuel. His surprise must have shown on his face because Bobo’s grin turned <em>wicked </em>when he leaned in close to Doc’s ear and whispered, “Lead the way.” </p><p>Doc blinked, mouth parting from the strike of heat to his spine those words elicited. </p><p>Oh. <em>Well. </em>Who was he to disappoint? </p><p>--</p><p>When they met again it took an extraordinary amount of willpower not to press Bobo into his front door and bite away any remaining shyness the other man might have been carrying. The fifteen-minute drive had been agony in tight jeans and there had been more than one frenzy-fueled moment that had Doc grinding the heel of his hand into himself to keep from blacking out. It had been a long time since the sharing of breath had worked Doc into such a state, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. </p><p>Doc hadn’t expected any of this. Not when he rolled up to the construction site that first fateful day, ignorant of the fact that he’d have the air torn from his lungs by the site of a foreman scowling into a set of CAD drawings. It had been <em>unbearably </em>hot and he’d found Bobo leaning over the table with his arms spread and his tank top accentuating the long line of his back all sticky with dirt and sweat. When he’d turned that twist of his lips on Doc he’d been <em>lost.</em></p><p>His hands might have shaken as he unlocked the door, but only because Bobo was crowding up against his back while he did, further igniting the heat of the memory with the delightful sample of what that body was going to feel like against his own. Bobo’s breath was scorching on the back of his neck, following his nerves down into the center of Doc until he ached. </p><p>The door was no sooner slammed behind them when Bobo pulled Doc in by a fistful of shirt and into a kiss that was just shy of filthy. Within the confines of his own walls, Doc no longer had the patience nor necessity to keep his own hands from seeking out the burn of Bobo’s skin. The sigh that was gifted to him was all the invitation he required to continue and he did so with enthusiasm. There was a hand tangled in his hair and it twisted as Bobo’s mouth opened, tongue dragging across the seam of Doc’s lips until they parted for him. </p><p>“You,” Bobo panted, scraping his nails along Doc’s back to pull him as close as they were able with clothes still in the way, “Have been driving me<em> insane</em> for <em>weeks</em>.”</p><p>Doc slipped his knee between Bobo’s thighs, leaning off enough to bite at the lobe of his ear. “Yet another thing we appear to have in common,” </p><p>The hands that encompassed his hips squeezed hard enough that Doc gasped and then he was wrenched forward again to witness the enticing sight of Bobo as he ground his hard cock against him.  It was a true shame that they were not yet naked, a situation Doc planned on remedying <em>now</em>. </p><p>“Can I—” He hissed the question against Bobo’s lips, fingers hovering over the front of his belt. Bobo released his hair to press his hand against Doc’s until it was flush with both metal and hardness. </p><p>“<em>Yeah</em>,” Bobo lifted his head to give Doc more room to explore the enticing length of his neck, “<em>Please</em>,”</p><p>Truly, a prettier word had never fallen from those lips. There was no time to waste getting his hands into those jeans, and he’d thought he’d understood what it felt like to touch Bobo until he came in contact with the hot flush of skin hidden beneath his clothes. The only true issue now was fighting the urgency that was singing through every inch of him long enough to steer Bobo to the bedroom. </p><p>“Perhaps we should move this somewhere more comfortable?” </p><p>He was met with a deep, threatening growl when he attempted to pull away. Bobo grasped him by the collar of his shirt, the fabric straining as he snarled into his mouth, “Here. <em>Now, </em>Henry<em>.”</em></p><p>There was a limit to a man before he turned <em>animal</em>, and Bobo was matching him tooth and claw. What happened directly after those noises were burned into Doc’s skin was a haze of teeth and tongues and hands that barely stopped touching long enough to get them naked. There were buttons clattering on the floor and fingers wrapped around the meat of his arms until Doc had his hands around both of their straining erections and was sucking a bruise into Bobo’s collar bone he intended to see for the next <em>week</em>.</p><p>He latched next onto the particularly enticing flesh of a pectoral, gooseflesh bristling up on his arms when Bobo threw his head back and moaned. Their movements were unrefined, sloppy and desperate and full of noise. Bobo cupped his jaw with both hands, keening into his mouth as Doc twisted his hand and returned it. </p><p>“How do you want it?” Doc managed. </p><p>“Was I not clear?” Bobo snapped, and Doc couldn’t recall ever being quite so turned on in his life. “I want you to <em>fuck </em>me.” </p><p>“You <em>are </em>going to have to tell me where all this has been hiding,” He smirked, pressing a final hungry kiss to Bobo’s mouth before dropping to his naked knees and reveling in just how wide those silver-touched eyes grew at the sight of him. “As I am utterly fascinated that a man as sweet as you would have such a <em>mouth </em>on him as well.”</p><p>“I—Do you want me to stop?” There was a note of trepidation that Doc was most certainly not going to accept. </p><p>He dug his hands into Bobo’s thighs, teeth catching on his lip as his eyes and hands slid up in tandem “Oh now, darlin’—Don’t you <em>dare.</em>”</p><p>Bobo’s breath hitched and that was reassurance enough. He couldn’t seem to stop touching Doc’s hair in a way that was rapidly causing within him a blistering desperation. The way those long, calloused hands dragged across his scalp, pulling just enough to make it hurt in the most delicious manner. The way Doc’s sharp intake of air would cause Bobo to answer with a throaty moan. </p><p>“Christ,” Doc hissed, nosing into the curve where hip met thigh. He dragged open mouthed kisses along the skin, eyes fluttering at the scent of musk and sex. “The <em>sounds</em> you make,” His hands wandered as if possessed to the small curve of Bobo’s ass, kneading into the flesh as he decided where to go first. “I won’t survive you if this keeps up.” </p><p>Bobo could flush the most gorgeous pink when praised, from the curves of his cheeks to the burn of his neck and down the irresistible plains of his chest. Doc grabbed his hips to look up at him, his chin hovering just over the head of that gorgeous cock.  “You’d better,” Bobo said, not a tremble to be found on those bitten-red lips, “Because if I have my way this won’t be the last time.”</p><p>He refused to look away, but matters such as these required certain helpful items; the main of which was tucked away in the pocket of the jacket Doc had discarded. Reaching out blindly with his tongue swiping in long stripes over Bobo’s cock, he fumbled through until he found the bottle of lube. </p><p>Bobo was flushed, his grin coming loose, “Expected to get lucky, Doc?” </p><p>“‘Hoped,’ would be the word I’d use.” He grit out, twisting the cap off as spreading the slick on to one hand while brushing his free one along the back of Bobo’s thigh until he could maneuver it over his shoulder. Leaning up to press his mouth to the skin under Bobo’s navel, he ran his fingers lightly over the source of Bobo’s heat and pressed in. </p><p>Now, Doc would say that he always attempted to give his lovers time for their bodies to adjust, but Bobo, he was coming to understand, simply didn’t have the <em>patience.</em> He ground his body down onto Doc’s fingers, grabbing at his wrist to speed up his movements. It was <em>enthralling. </em></p><p>He added another finger when Bobo hissed out the order and it wasn’t long before Doc was being bodily dragged up the length of him and into another kiss. It would not do to continue on with Bobo’s leg at such an awkward angle so he grasped onto the thickest part of his thighs and hefted him upward, pinning his body against the door with his own and angling himself into the most effective position. </p><p>Bobo gasped out his name, his arms falling around Doc’s shoulders and the flush on his cheeks turned bright. “Holy <em>shit,</em>” </p><p>Doc bore his teeth at him, happy to have proven just as surprising as Bobo had to him. His body was loose and ready for him, all wet heat that begged for completion and Doc was helpless for it as he slid inside. Bobo’s hands squeezed his head to his chest, crying out and hooking his ankles behind Doc’s back to pull him closer. Doc couldn’t remember anywhere else he’d rather be than here and did not care enough to try. </p><p>Their mouths met in muffled moans as Doc started to move, readjusting his grip and slamming into Bobo when he hissed into his skin <em>more</em> and <em>harder </em>and <em>Henry. </em>His arms were strong, gripping so tightly that when his body clenched down around Doc he could feel nothing more than consumed; everything narrowing down to Bobo’s taste, his scent, the vibrations of his throat. </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, Doc, I’m—I’m <em>close</em>,” </p><p>“Come on now,” Doc couldn’t recognize the sound of his own voice, there was a whimper to it, a sigh as he pulled back to watch Bobo’s eyes widen and roll before they closed completely and he bit down on the corner of his jaw, near begging, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” </p><p>Some men turned their heads away at the end, or kept their eyes shut to keep from looking as long as humanly possible, but Bobo came with his eyes boring into Doc’s and their foreheads pressed together until all color blurred and whited out completely. There was nothing left for him to do but follow close behind. </p><p>They breathed together, Bobo’s grip loosening just enough to run in soothing motions through his hair. Doc lowered him gently to the ground and waited to be sure he was stable before sliding his hands up to his cheeks and drawing him into a kiss far softer than the ones they’d shared thus far. It kept up until their breathing slowed and when Doc pulled away, Bobo was smiling. </p><p>“Impressive,” Bobo said, his hands resting low on Doc’s back. They were both disgusting at this point, sticky with cum and dripping with sweat but Bobo was solar bright and Doc never wanted to stop looking. “Guess people are right about not underestimating the small ones,” </p><p>Doc’s eyebrow raised, “I am sure you are aware by now that there is nothing <em>small </em>about me,”</p><p>“Your ego isn’t, that’s for sure.” </p><p>A laugh rippled out of him, warm and pleased. “I would like to know where the man went who couldn’t formulate a sentence in my presence,” Doc nipped at Bobo’s smirking lips, “And why he has suddenly been replaced with <em>the </em>most sarcastic bastard I ever did see.” </p><p>“He’ll tell you,” Bobo chuckled, tilting his chin up to let Doc have access. “Preferably after a shower,” </p><p>Well that brought to mind all kinds of interesting possibilities. If there was a room in his entire home that Doc had taken the time to cultivate to his every desire, besides, of course, his bedroom, it was the large tiled shower with the duel heads that had plenty of room to assist Bobo while he cleaned up. </p><p>“Henry?” Bobo questioned, waving his hand in front of Doc’s face until he shook out of his reverie. “Did I lose you?”</p><p>“No,” Doc’s smirk spread slow, his eyes still alight with the plethora of possibilities that lie before him. </p><p>Bobo truly, <em>truly</em> did blush so prettily for such a generally stone faced man. “Should I ask what you’re thinking?”</p><p>He reached out to grab Bobo by the hand and pull him further into the house. He definitely could not find it in him to be embarrassed about the way they’d rutted against the door like teenagers, not when he had the literal man of all his current fantasties smiling at Doc like he was now. “Why don’t I show you instead?”</p><p>Hours later, there would come a need to figure out how to mute the notifications on their phones as Dowdy will have inadvertently discovered from their previously established group chat that Bobo was not, in fact, at home. </p><p>FROM: Dowdy</p><p>Tonight 8:07pm</p><p>Where’d you decide to go? </p><p>Tonight  8:15pm</p><p>You don’t have to tell me.  That’s fair.</p><p>Tonight 8:32pm</p><p>I mean, anywhere is fine as long as you’re not just going to a bar.</p><p>I mean you can go to a bar if you want you’re both adults.</p><p>Tonight 9:02pm</p><p>So how’s it going?</p><p>Tonight 9:09pm</p><p>Guys, come on.  One of you can reply.  Unless you’re BUSY.</p><p>It’s a little early in the evening to be busy if you know what i mean</p><p>Tonight 9:12</p><p>Guys</p><p>Just send an emoji!  </p><p>Tonight 9:47</p><p>You guys owe us something some sign of how things are going</p><p>If boss is going to be insufferable we deserve to know</p><p>Tonight 10:02pm</p><p>I guess at this point it's either going really great or really bad</p><p>Tonight 10:21pm</p><p>Come on.  Anything?</p><p>Tonight 10:27pm</p><p>Guys I’m invested, this has been MONTHS of our lives</p><p>Tonight 10:32pm</p><p>Fine </p><p>But you better be banging </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>